UMass Magazine Online

Spring 2004

Departments

Features

The Cosby Principle

The Wildest Place in Boston

Manhattan's Hottest Property

Setting the Record Straight

Feature

The Cosby Principle
America's funniest educator helps roll out a pioneering teacher-training program

–Carol Cambo




	Bill Cosby at Pleasant Street Elementary School in Athol, Massachusetts. (photo by Ben Barnhart)

BALLOONS BOUNCE IN A BRISK March breeze outside Pleasant Street Elementary School in Athol, Massachusetts. TV crews set up cameras while newspaper and radio reporters keep a sharp eye on the driveway. Under a cornflower blue sky, the glass entryway of the school winks in the sunshine, scrubbed clean for a visit from Bill Cosby. Today he is helping announce the Bridges to the Future program, a new initiative that will bring 40 student teachers to Athol, Orange and the Mahar district beginning this fall.

The entourage enters the schoolyard, and Cosby’s casual manner puts everyone immediately at ease. He wears a grey custom-embroidered UMass Amherst sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, the dates of his degrees inscribed in maroon on his sleeve: M.A. 1972, Ed.D. 1976. He is dressed for comfort, down to a pair of Birkenstocks worn over white athletic sox. On the sidewalk, Cosby greets officials from participating schools and UMass Amherst, but his most ardent fans are waiting, somewhat patiently, in their classrooms inside the low brick building.

Once inside Cosby makes his way down the beige tiled hallway. First stop is Mrs. Casella’s kindergarten class. Colorful paper kites hang from the ceiling. Neatly stowed magic markers and crayons perfume the air. The students fidget excitedly at one end of the room. Cosby chats amiably with Casella. He sits on a tiny chair and asks the kids. “What are you doing, learning how not to wet yourself?” Everyone laughs. A boy named Tyler Lajoie steps forward and hands Cosby a green construction paper booklet the children have made for him. After a few minutes, they usher Cosby out with a chorus of high-pitched goodbyes.

He crisscrosses the hallway visiting 11 classrooms in all. The kids aren’t star-struck. They tell him what they are studying—leprechauns, invertebrates, spelling words. He hams it up for group photos. Many of the younger kids tell them they love his television show, “Little Bill.” As he wraps up his tour, Cosby asks a class of third-graders “which kid here is going to go the farthest in life?” They all point to a brown-skinned boy with eyeglasses in the front row. Patrick. “And why is he going to go far?” asks Cosby. “Because he’s good at math and reading.” Patrick comes up to the front of the class at Cosby’s urging. “Now tell us why this is, Patrick.” The boy answers, shyly: “I read a lot at home.” “He’s prepared!” exclaims Cosby. “Did you hear that? He does well in school because he has prepared at home.”

Bill Cosby has always been an educator. The stage and the screen are his classrooms, his life story the textbook, laughter the lesson plan. From his earliest standup routines in the 1960s where he eschewed racist and raunchy material, to the mega-hit “The Cosby Show” and its exaltation of the American family, to his current award-winning cartoon series, “Little Bill,” Cosby teaches us how to be better people.

Sound parenting is one of several themes Cosby returns to whether he’s on stage or in private conversation, but especially during his work with the Bridges program. Parents, he says, need to participate in their child’s education. Kids aren’t supposed to always like their parents, and “buying” kids’ affection and attention is dangerous in the long run.

At a recent concert Cosby ambled out onstage in a maroon version of his custom UMass Amherst sweatsuit and mixed tales of his childhood with funny truths about growing older. His gift is finding comedy in the ordinary. He played to a packed house, two three-hour back-to-back performances. Not bad for a 67-year-old grandfather of two.

Early in the first show Cosby invited a boy from the audience onstage. Steve, 13, has a black cargo vest slung over a white T-shirt, a bowl haircut, and baggy jeans. Goofing with him, Cosby asks about school. “Algebra and French are boring,” says the teenager. Steve tells Cosby he’d rather not go to school, rather spend his days riding his bicycle and playing video games. Cosby mines this a bit further, getting laughs along the way, finding out about how Steve’s mom “spazzes out” if he doesn’t take the garbage to the curb when he’s asked.

“Where are Steve’s parents?” Cosby asks the audience. The boy’s parents wave from their seats. “Is Steve’s name anywhere on the deed to your house?” No, it is not. Cosby turns back to Steve and explains that it’s only out of the goodness of their hearts that he has a place to live. “And all these nice people ask you to do, in exchange for a warm house and food, is to take out the garbage.”

Steve gets a laugh from the crowd telling Cosby he’s got a tent, but the point has been made. Lots of kids today have it pretty good, maybe too good. And sometimes that’s as big a problem as not having much at all.

“My consciousness was brought to a cognitive peak at UMass,” explains Cosby. Both he and his wife earned their doctorates through the School of Education at the urging of Norma Jean Anderson, professor emeritus; the vibrant Anderson was an assistant dean at the time. “I was entitled to bring 15 students without bachelor’s degrees into the program,” remembers Anderson. “I was looking for something that might not be on paper, a feeling, a spark.” She read a newspaper story about Bill Cosby in which he said he was interested in pursuing an education; he had never finished college, leaving Temple University to pursue his comedic fortune. His mother had always been disappointed he didn’t finish his degree. Though Anderson had never met him, she approached Cosby. “I decided to enroll, not for what I could get, but for what I could give,” he says.

Bill Cosby’s dissertation concerned “Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids” as an elementary school teaching aid. He developed the cartoon series in the early 1970s to provide inner city youth with models for moral behavior. Material for episodes was drawn from Cosby’s own childhood; he grew up in the subsidized housing projects of north Philadelphia. Of his guiding principles for the show he wrote, “television can teach.

Education can be entertaining, and entertainment can be non-violent.” These were pioneering concepts at the time, following in the footsteps of early educational programs for kids—“Sesame Street” and “Electric Company.” But Cosby’s show was different, not seeking to develop cognitive and reading skills, but instead to affect social behavior.

In Fat Albert, Cosby created a human hero, “a success model for inner city and low income children,” who would thoughtfully and successfully navigate situations such as what to do when older kids use younger kids, and how to deal with braggarts and liars. The show was also intended to portray black kids who “are not stupid or lazy, hoodlums or junkies,” debunking stereotypes perpetuated by television characters of the time.

It has been 30 years since Fat Albert swept the Saturday morning ratings, and Cosby’s positive message and mission have not wavered. And that, in part, is what has brought him back to UMass Amherst.

Two years ago, when Cosby was performing at Symphony Hall in Springfield, former UMass Amherst professors, including Anderson and Provost Charlena Seymour, visited with him backstage. They talked about opportunities for future cooperation between Cosby and the School of Education. Cosby had recently co-authored American Schools: The 100 Billion Dollar Challenge, essentially a white paper calling for sweeping educational reform, with Dwight D. Allen, former dean of the School of Education. The book is a detailed proposal for reaching all of the nation’s students, regardless of race or socioeconomic level.

Inspired by the Symphony Hall visit, Seymour and Andrew Effrat, the new School of Education dean, began brainstorming. They focused on “180 Days,” an innovative teacher-training program developed in cooperation with Springfield schools. They saw that with some modifications, the program could have significant impact in a rural setting—those communities are hardest hit by budget cuts. Bridges to the Future emerged. Incorporating the basic structure of the “180 Days” program, it includes an ambitious community service component which funnels vital human resources to existing programs.

“Unlike the traditional method of parachuting the student-teacher into a classroom for a short period of time, our successful urban-based program is designed so that teachers are deeply embedded in the classroom, the school, even at the district level, for an entire school year,” explains Effrat. The truly pioneering piece of the Bridges to the Future program is its community outreach component. In addition to their classroom duties, student-teachers must also contribute time and energy to existing community programs, from adult and family education to health and nutrition programs. “It’s an ideal way to train 21st century teachers. They will come away with experience in working with a ‘whole village,’” says Effrat.

Ruth Ellen Verock O’Loughlin, a doctoral candidate at UMass Amherst who was instrumental in developing and implementing the Springfield program, was brought into the loop. A native of Athol and a former teacher in her home town, she had intimate knowledge of the challenges facing educators in poor, rural communities.

The towns of Athol and Orange and the Mahar School District were natural targets for these efforts. With some of the lowest MCAS scores in the state, household income levels well below the state median of $50,000, and teen pregnancy rates among the highest in the state, the towns display symptoms shared by many dying mill towns. Cosby encouraged the location, having personal connections with local residents.

“One of our earliest steps in developing the program was including community members in the process,” says Verock O’Loughlin. “We listened to what would make sense for them in a teacher-education program. School does not end when you leave the classroom; we explored the best way to enrich their existing programs, such as literacy and adult education.”

Athol is a town at a crossroads. Fifty years ago “Tool Town” thrived. The downtown thoroughfare was lined with stylish shops and restaurants. Most residents held good-paying jobs in factories that turned out everything from combs to slide calipers. The large houses on the north end of Main Street recall Athol’s affluent past, but their peeling paint and sagging porches indicate a fall from grace. These days most people shop out of town.

Pleasant Street Elementary School is located in one of the nicest neighborhoods, close to the country club and near its historic center. Athol High School, in contrast, anchors the gritty north end of Main Street. While it provides a safe haven for students, life outside of school is tough for many. “Just this morning we were dealing with a student who has been bouncing back and forth between Orange and Athol,” says Kent Strong, vice principal at the high school. He explains that the family doesn’t have enough money to cover first and last month’s rent on an apartment, so for now they’re living in a motel. While Athol is the kind of town where many residents never lock their front door, its rate of domestic violence ranks among the highest in Massachusetts. It’s part of a larger, negative spiral of poverty. Low wages and little opportunity lead to money problems, which in turn can lead to substance abuse and angry outbursts. It creates a self-perpetuating cycle that’s hard to break.

A pervasive, narrow mindset is as troubling as the discouraging statistics. Says guidance counselor Ann Williams, “On one hand, these kids are incredibly mobile, willing to travel far and wide, for music concerts, for instance.” But this doesn’t translate into a broader worldview. Most kids stay in the area after high school. Those who attend college tend to choose Fitchburg State or Mount Wachusett Community College in Gardner. UMass Amherst, less than an hour to the southwest, is often perceived as an uncomfortable stretch—too far away. Against these odds, at least 70 percent of Athol High School graduates pursue some form of higher education.

“I’m really proud of this staff,” says principal Randi Shenkman ’83, a native of Belchertown. “We accomplish a lot with very little money.” Student teachers in the Bridges program will come to Athol High School in the fall. Shenkman anticipates a wave of retirements in the next five to seven years. “In addition to the extra help in the classrooms, our hope is that this will create a steadier pool of candidates for teaching jobs,” she says. In other words, the Bridges to the Future program is aptly named: it can help Athol and the other participating communities teach their children well—for many years to come.

To be sure, much work must still be done to successfully implement the Bridges program for a September launch. But on this spring day, it is a time to celebrate the hope and creative energy it represents. And what better voice to lead that celebration than Bill Cosby?

Wrapping up his classroom visits, Cosby makes his way to the school cafeteria where onions, milk cartons, bread and fruit dance in a mural on the far wall. Teachers and reporters share space with politicians, parents, and administrators for what feels like part press conference, part pep rally. It’s standing room only. After short remarks by key participants in the Bridges program, Cosby steps up to the podium to theme music from “The Cosby Show” played by members of the high school band.

In his speech Cosby paints in broad strokes the challenges of raising good kids today. His harshest words are for television, a medium whose content he has spent much of his career trying to improve. He tells the rows of children sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him “Stop following these people on TV. They are there to entertain you, not to show you how to live.”

Parenting is the key to helping kids realize their potential, says Cosby. “Somehow we stopped parenting. None of you want to stand in front of a judge with your children dressed in orange,” he said. “I want you to teach your children to love you unconditionally.” It’s not about having the latest sneakers or body piercings; when you buy a child a toy to stop a tantrum, to have her love you, you’ve taught her that affection can be bought, he adds.

The answer, is in creating an environment where the school acts as an extension of the community. Cosby says that the process of communitywide change isn’t easy. But with the Bridges to the Future program, it’s more attainable than ever. “Chancellor Lombardi assembled these resources and these people who care. We’re here because the Chancellor said ‘go’ and we’re not going to let this community down,” he tells the audience. “We’re either going to be the best people you’ve ever met or your worst nightmare.”

Before departing, he urges the crowd to take back their neighborhoods, to go back to the important job of parenting. This is about putting the students first, he says, about making the community strong, about helping everyone grow.

“And guess what will be waiting for you?” Cosby says, his large expressive eyes mesmerizing the kids on the floor. “The University of Massachusetts.”

For more on the School of Education visit: http://www.umass.edu/education/

[top of page]

The Cosby Principle

Cosby: more images

A Welcome Surprise

Surprise: more images